The FA Cup final will be fascinating but the true magic belongs to its minnows

H as the FA Cup lost something? You know, something intangible. Something that made it more special all those years ago. What’s the word? It’s “Tada”, it’s “Abracadabra”, it’s “Piff Paff Puff” … it’s magic perhaps – yes that’s it. Remember when it was magic. Ricky Villa, Norman Whiteside, the Crazy Gang, the Cream Suits. Bert Millichip, velvet bags, Sutton United, Tim Buzaglo, Mickey Thomas, Ronnie Radford.

How could we get it back? Did Des Lynam remember to cryogenically freeze the legendary Gerald Sinstadt before he retired? Could we reanimate him and get him on the Manchester United coach at 8am? Could we all give our TVs away so only one house on the street has one and we sit around that – or better still, all stand next to that Leicester fan who found a transistor radio from somewhere for the last day of the season? Get Mike Ingham and Alan Green on a crackly landline.

It is possible that the FA Cup hasn’t lost its magic at all, it’s just that you are no longer a child. You are a tiny bit more aware of the less appealing aspects of the game. Maybe the column “has the FA Cup lost its magic?” has lost its magic – but it’s too late to back out now. Arguably it was peak magic for children of the 1980s for whom football became their sole interest right in the middle of the European ban. Before and after, well there were/are other big shiny things that lay claim to the same thing – although that feels a stretch writing after the six-week Europa League final in Budapest.

The reality is slightly more prosaic. The FA Cup is magic if you win it. It’s magic if you’re a lower-league club who get somewhere. And it isn’t otherwise.

This final is fascinating. The plucky minnows of Manchester United v the giant petro-state